


just like old times

by badlifechoices123



Series: Sylvain Dislikes Uncleanliness [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, M/M, No Smut, Post-Time Skip, Rated M for Nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:42:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21976789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badlifechoices123/pseuds/badlifechoices123
Summary: Dimitri stinks, and Sylvain dislikes uncleanliness.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: Sylvain Dislikes Uncleanliness [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1581955
Comments: 1
Kudos: 92





	just like old times

**Author's Note:**

> ...bath fic? no smut, just some gratuitous dirt scrubbing.

“Sylvain.”

“Ah,” Sylvain replied, facing the professor with his hands on hips, his casual smile on. “Finally wanna come to town with me?”

The professor didn't even blink. Years ago during peaceful studying time, this would’ve unnerved Sylvain, but after he’s seen the professor pull on various faces, he’s decided that no, the professor is a good egg. Good enough to not to accompany him to his late-night town shenanigans, at least.

“So… no carousing around town tonight?” he said after a tentative silence. Conversations with the professor tend to run longer than usual with all the contemplative silences going in between. He’s gotten used to it by now.

“Sylvain. Dimitri stinks.”

Sylvain stared at the professor, who stared back blankly. Sylvain sighed, running his hands over his face. “Are you asking me to bathe him, Professor?”

“You two are old friends.”

“He’s not really into his friends right now.”

The professor looked sad, for a split second. Then they turned their back to Sylvain, heading to wherever it is they came from. “He told once that he looked up to you, like an older brother,” they said as they left, heels clacking too loudly on the gravel.

He kept watching until they disappeared, shrinking until they descended the stairs at the far end of the dorms. He sighed, eventually yielding. “Unfair, Ashen Demon, unfair.”

In the cathedral, rank from the smell of moss and vermin (much to the displeasure of Mercedes and Anette, and he won’t ever confess this, but himself too) he stood behind Dimitri. Dimitri, who was probably the source of most of the stink. Who would’ve thought, the Prince of Faerghus, standing in ruins like a lone mountain, hair matted and looking nothing like it should be, dirt stuck in the crevices of armor, and old blood dried into the weaves of his clothes.

“Yo, Your Highness. Lovely day isn’t it? We should walk together to town, you know, like old times.” Except even during old times, Dimitri would never go out to town with him.

Dimitri didn't even turn to face him. No inclination of the head or any indication that he recognized Sylvain’s existence except the quietly muttered: “Go away.”

“Fine,” he said playfully, stepping in and facing the wounded lion. “I’m going after you agree to take a bath.” He was met with all the disdain and irritation in Fodlan concentrated in one blue eye. _The Professor says you stink_ , he wanted to say so badly, _Felix said you look like a wet rat_ , he wanted to lie. Felix would never say that but his eyes sure would. Then he remembered what was asked of him, and deep down Sylvain knew his friend _did_ need help. So he said, softly in the hope that it would go through the unbreachable walls Dimitri erected, “Let me help, Dima. Just like old times.”

Dimitri’s sole eye widened. Sylvain saw the old Dimitri there, not the one with shadows in his eyes and darkness eating out his heart from school days, but the one before the Tragedy. Small, timid and shy Dima. “I’ll head to the baths and wait for you there,” he said, turning away. If Dimitri wanted space, and the choice to accept Sylvain’s help, he would gladly give it. A step, two, then Sylvain smiled when he felt a tug on his sleeve. _Just like old times, huh._

“Close your eyes, Your Highness.”

He poured the water from a basin slowly on Dimitri’s hair, making sure to wet all dirt-streaked strands. Dimitri sat stiffly on the stool Sylvain prepared for him, shoulders hunched and fists clenched on his knees. Sylvain didn't ask about the various scars on him, nor did he inquire about wounds that seemed to not have healed well. He might need to talk to Mercedes about this, make sure no infections are festering there. But now he focused on lathering the soap into Dimitri’s hair, carefully and gently, scrubbing the base of his head and around his ears. There was a sharp intake of breath from Dimitri and Sylvain, concerned, asked: “You okay there, Your Highness?”

“Why?” Dimitri asked in lieu of answering.

Sylvain paused. “I… wanted to make sure I didn't hurt you there, that’s all.”

Dimitri shook his head, sending drops of soapy water flying. “Why are you helping me, Sylvain? Why waste your time on me.”

Sylvain stepped in front of his old friend, for the second time today. He realized that it was a bit of an awkward position as Dimitri flushed, crossing his legs and curling so that he can cover himself better. Sylvain had wanted to look Dimitri in the eye, not... anywhere else. When he next spoke, Dimitri raised his head to look at him, “Time spent with you isn’t wasted, _Dimitri_.” He had meant it to sound reassuring and casual, but it came out too sincere that his voice cracked at the name. Dimitri, stunned to silence, looked up at him from under dark, wet lashes. His lips parted, and his shoulders dropped into a relaxed position. He was no longer clenching his fists, but splaying his fingers on his knees. Sylvain took the opportunity to drop to knees, carefully as to not startle Dimitri, and take his friend’s hand slowly. It was scarred and calloused, like many of their friends’ hands. He grabbed a small, soaped rag and began gently scrubbing under nails, between fingers, minding the bruises on Dimitri’s knuckles. “You should get Mercedes to look at that,” he said.

“I wouldn't want to bother her any more than I’ve already done.”

“Nonsense. You know she’d be happy to help.” Sylvain moved to the other hand. He noted how Dimitri’s fingers curled against his own palm.

“Sylvain.”

“Yeah?”

“Your hands are warm.”

“Thanks,” he said. He ran Dimitri’s hands over with water, and then whispered, “Your hands are warm, too.”

When Sylvain stood up to look at Dimitri, he found his eye glassy, his brows furrowed. His jaw set, but Sylvain knew that expression. No matter how hard they always tried to not cry, Sylvain always knew when his childhood friends were going to break. He was always there to help them before, not so much now because they started to hide it better when as they grew up.

So he took the basin, filled it with water that was probably colder than it looked, and dunked it on Dimitri’s head without a fair warning. There was an unrestrained squeak, and Sylvain couldn't help but laugh. Watching Dimitri’s annoyed expression from under a curtain of hair, he bent down and swept gold locks away. Then kissed him in the middle of his forehead.

“Get dressed, wouldn't want you to catch a fever now.” He winked.

Later on, Dimitri would still refuse to take a bath on his very bad days. The professor wouldn't even bother, because they’d always spot Sylvain heading to the baths and watch as Dimitri trailed after him.

**Author's Note:**

> more sylvain cleaning with the blue lions coming up


End file.
